Roberto’s gaze lingered on her throat, his expression unreadable, but the tension was evident in the hard set of his jaw. “Just like the bruises,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His eyes traced the space where the marks had long since faded, as if he could still see them.
Kylie’s breath hitched, the memory of those bruises tightening like a phantom grip around her neck. “Roberto, please.” Her voice was soft, pleading, yet there was an undercurrent of steel in it. She needed him to stop before he shattered the fragile walls she had built around herself.
For a moment, it seemed like he might push her further. His hesitation hung heavy in the air, a charged silence that made her heart race. A small, treacherous part of her almost wished he would press on, pry deeper. The memory of Da
